


In Which Roxy Morton Saves The Day

by Cloudnine101



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Friendship, Getting Together, Multi, Mutual Pining, POV Outsider, Roxy Is a Good Bro, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...and Harry Hart is less than pleased.</p><p> </p><p>aka <br/> </p><p>that time Roxy and Merlin locked the lovebirds in a cupboard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Roxy Morton Saves The Day

Not all of the stories can be true, Roxy knows. That would be impossible. Harry Hart cannot be a dragon, _and_ an android, _and_ a Jedi. A fire-breathing lightsabre-wielding robot would not only be pointless, but impractical - and anyway, the weapons budget is tight enough as it is.

Still, it doesn't stop her from getting a little lurch in her stomach when he passes by.

It's ridiculous. Harry Hart is not the kind of man to inspire fear. He is a gentleman. He eats sandwiches without the crusts. He goes to dinner in a suit and tie, and comes back with both suit and tie intact.

Harry Hart is also an ex-field agent, and the head of Kingsman.

Roxy tries not to let that get to her.

 

 

Currently, Roxy is standing in the communal kitchen, and she is trying to make the pots and pans work. They are proving hostile. More than that - they are actively impossible.

Beside her, Eggsy is leaning against the counter, and being, generally, a smug git. "You've got to turn the hob on," he says.

Frantically grappling with the spaghetti packet, Roxy shoves it down onto the sideboard and sends out her most impressive glare.

"If you're so smart, _you_ do it." And that emerges slightly more childishly than it should have done.

Eggsy raises his eyebrows. "Thought you was meant to be impressin' him?"

Roxy sighs, and rocks back on her feet. "It's not - quite going to plan." She throws her hand around slightly. "It's not - working! I mean, I got everything ready, and I thought about making it last night, but then the bloody thing wouldn't go, so I-" 

Eggsy snorts. "I'll say. C'mere."

Stepping up behind her, he reaches past and turns one of those dials. Almost instantly, a light pings on. The stove glows red.

Roxy stares. "Oh," she says.

Eggsy steps back. "See? Easy." And he smiles again.

"Galahad," Harry Hart says, from the doorway.

Eggsy spins around as though his shoes are on fire. "Harry," he says, "err - Arthur. What - ?"

Harry's lips are drawn tight. "Can I have a word?" he says.

Eggsy nods, once. "Yeah - uh - sure-"

"I can handle this," Roxy says.  _Go_ , Roxy means.

Eggsy takes a look at her, and then grimaces, and says, "Yeah. Sure. Put some tomatoes in with it, yeah?"

Harry Hart holds the door open for Eggsy, as he scampers out, trying his very best to hold his chin up. Harry levels her a long look, as the door swings shut. The back of Roxy's neck tingles. She looks at the pan.

"Tomato sauce," she says. "Alright."

 

 

Merlin enjoys the pasta. Very much, apparently. He eats every last bite.

"Never knew you could cook," he says.

For one of the first times in her living memory, Roxy is tempted to lie (outside of work, of course).

"I can't. Eggsy made most of it."

Merlin nods. "Thank you," he says.

Roxy tries to conceal her blush, and, judging by Merlin's expression, probably fails. Epically.

 

 

That night, she puts in six hours on the shooting range. She comes away feeling like a new woman.

 

 

Roxy rather likes Paris. It's a fun place to be, in the summer-time. Merlin calls it the people watching world capital, and it's true - you never spot the same face twice. There's a cafe in the corner of the square, where you can see the roads in all directions. It has trees nearby, and cars snaking away from it. It's nice. Expensive, but - nice.

"Target at ten o'clock," Roxy tells Eggsy, and punches a man in the face. He falls like a sack of potatoes, crashing into the concrete with the force of a ten-ton truck.

"Good job, Lancelot," Merlin says, his voice crackling in her ear. If she used her imagination, he could be standing right behind her.

"Galahad," she hears Arthur say, "keep moving. Don't look back. Do not engage the target, I repeat, do not engage. Galahad. Galahad. Do not - I repeat, do not - Eggsy, don't you bloody - Eggsy, get out of there, don't bother with the chandelier, get out of there, get out of there, get out-"

Roxy rolls her eyes and grabs hold of the enemy spy's loaded gun.

 

 

"You bloody idiot," Roxy says. It's all she can think of.

Eggsy smiles up at her, like he hasn't got every single wire in the world sticking out of his body, and winks. "Knew you loved me, Rox," he says.

"A bomb, Eggsy. You can't try to disarm a bomb. On a chandelier. At thirty feet in the air."

Eggsy tries to shrug, before wincing, and gritting his teeth. "Did it, didn't I? Mission successful."

"And then you were shot! Repeatedly!"

"Hazard of the job." 

Roxy sighs, and sits down beside him, carefully attempting not to jostle his hand. From the look of pain on his face, it seems a futile endeavour.

"Arthur's not going to be pleased."

Eggsy's face falls. "Yeah," he says.

In that moment, he doesn't look any older than sixteen. Maybe seventeen, at a push. Seeing as they're both nineteen, this may be considered a tad rich. However, Roxy's been reliably informed that she looks very mature for her age.

"So," Roxy says. "Tell me about the lights, again?"

 

 

"Arthur has something against me," Roxy says to Merlin. She's curled up in the chair, with her head against the back. The ceiling has a spot of mould in the corner.

"Well, it's probably because of his undeniable crush on Galahad," Merlin replies, without so much as glancing up from the screen. "No, Percival, I'm not talking to you."

From the other end of the line, there's a burst of static. Merlin pulls a face. His eyebrows crinkle. 

"What?" Roxy asks. 

"Oh, didn't you know? Harry's in love with Eggsy. Always has been, probably always will be. Poor sod."

Roxy stares. And stares. And stares. Suddenly, it - makes sense. 

"We have to help," she says.

"You think I haven't tried? Those two are as oblivious as a pair of - of - of dogs." Merlin shakes his head. "They're impossible. No, not _you_ , Per-"

"But - Eggsy's in love with Harry, too."

Merlin looks across. "Yes. Like I said. Oblivious. Problem I have with a lot of my agents."

Roxy blinks. "Didn't know you liked many," she says.

"Oh," Merlin replies. "Believe me, I don't."

 

 

When Roxy arrives at home, there is one message within her voicemail. It's on her mobile, which is on the kitchen counter, beside the open cookbook. Roxy kicks off her heels, and pours herself a tot of whiskey. She has a feeling she's going to need it.

 

 

“ _Hey - hey Roxy, it's - me. Eggsy. Hi. (A hiccup.) Listen - I know this is late, but I - had to get something off my chest. Something stupid. And I know you're probably pissed off at me, already, so I'll get to it. Err. (A pause.) Here goes._

 _“Thing is - d'you remember that time in Paris? With the guy, and the - the chandelier, and the - you know the one. That one. (A hiccup.) We're in the carriage, and this bloke comes up to us, and he says sorry, sir, but this is reserved. And then Harry cruises in, all smooth and smart and - and it's stupid, but - I can't stop thinking 'bout it. Him in his tux, and his - I dunno, his_ smile _._

_“Do you ever see someone smile, and then - the whole room, just - lights up? And you know - I think - I - I might like Harry, Rox. (A hiccup.) A lot. A lot of a lot. And I dunno what to do 'bout it. And it's stupid, 'cause he ain't - he's not - like - (A hiccup.) Yeah. So. Err. Call me back tomorrow, right? We can talk, an' - I can moan, an' - when I - ah, shit. Yeah.”_

 

The line clicks.

 

Roxy drains the glass dry. 

 

 

She goes to work the following morning. She walks into Merlin's office, and she stands in front of the desk.

Roxy knows exactly what she has to do. She was a decently brought up girl, after all. She has standards. She has morals. She has principals.

She also has six piebald ponies, a warehouse filled to the brim with quad bikes, and more clothes and shoes than she knows what to do with, never mind wear.

That is not an important point.

What is an important point, however, is that - despite being a smug, self-satisfied, pot-and-pan-wielding bastard - Eggsy is her friend. He said as much. And this is the sort of thing good friends do for each other.

Roxy Morton has six piebald ponies, a warehouse filled to the brim with quad bikes, and more clothes and shoes than she knows what to do with, never mind wear.

She can also sweet-talk. Very effectively, in fact.

"I need your help," Roxy says. "It's a matter of the utmost urgency."

Merlin takes off his glasses, and puts them down on the table-top. "How?" he says.

 

 

"Hey, Rox," Eggsy says. "What am I meant to be lookin' for, again?"

"It's a box," Roxy calls out, "a big, blue box. Just - keep searching."

"What? Like the TARDIS?" There's a muffled thump, and a bang. "I can't see an effing thing!"

Roxy takes a step forwards. "Be careful," she says. "There are - mops."

"Mops?" Eggsy turns to face her. "We're lookin' for a blue box in a cleaning cupboard?"

Roxy nods.

Eggsy's face splits in a grin. "Call me Sarah Jane," he says.

Roxy blinks. "What?"

"You've never seen Doctor Who?" Roxy shakes her head, and watches Eggsy's eyes narrow. "When we get back tonight, you're comin' over to mine. We're having a marathon."

At the other end of the corridor, a door opens. Roxy can hear it click.

"I prefer Harry Potter - and I don't know about that," Roxy says. "You might be busy."

Footsteps - echoing, against the walls. One click at a time. Two sets of feet.

"With Arthur?" Eggsy says. "Yeah. Right. Pigs'll fly, first. And Harry Potter's got nothin' to do with Doctor Who."

"Hang on a sec," Roxy says, "and they both have time travel in them, don't they? With Buckbeak."

"Buckbeak?" Eggsy says. "What's a Buckbeak?"

Before Roxy can decide whether Eggsy's serious or not, she's out in the corridor, and face to face with a frowning Harry Hart.

"Hello, Lancelot," Harry says. "What are you doing in there?"

At his side, Merlin shoots Roxy a face. Roxy isn't entirely certain what it means.

"Looking for - a box," she says. "Big. Blue."

Merlin looks as though he's about to be shot.

Harry doesn't blink. "Blue?"

"Yes," Roxy replies. "Blue. It's in there, somewhere. Have you seen it?"

Merlin's mouth opens. He is, most likely, about to save the day.

At that same moment, Eggsy pokes his head out into the corridor. "Harry?" he says.

Harry looks from Eggsy, to Roxy, to Merlin, and back to Eggsy.

"Bugger it," Merlin says.

Roxy jumps to one side, and Merlin leans forward, and shoves his hands into the back of Harry Hart's exquisitely tailored jacket, and pushes. Hard.

For a non-field operative, Merlin's got a mean shove.

Harry Hart stumbles, for a second - and Eggsy's eyes are widening, and he's stepping forward - but he's not quite quick enough, and they just sort of hang there - frozen in mid-air, with Harry stating up at Eggsy's chin, and Eggsy cradling Harry, hands fisting.

"Err," Eggsy says.

His pupils have dilated.

Roxy steps back, and slams the door shut, and puts her back against it. Merlin reaches inside his pocket, and grabs the power cord.

"Hang on," he says, and wraps it around, and picks up the ring.

The door bangs against Roxy's back.

"Hurry!" she says.

Merlin mutters something, under his breath. Bang. Bang. Bang. And then-

Merlin loops the cord around the handle, and sticks the pin into the wall, and stretches it out. Tight. "Got it," Merlin says.

Roxy backs away, slowly. The door rattles.

"Will it hold?"

There is quiet. A hush. Stillness. Merlin looks at Roxy. Roxy looks back. The door stops shaking.

"Roxy!" Eggsy hollers, "Let us bloody out!"

Roxy is tempted to make some sort of obscene gesture, before remembering that she is a Kingsman, and that Kingsman just do not do that.

"No," she says. "Not until you get your heads out of your arses."

A hush.

Merlin turns his eyes to the cupboard.

"Lancelot," Harry Hart says. "Open the door. Please."

He is terrifying. His voice is terrifying. Harry Hart bloody terrifies her.

"No," Roxy says, again, and turns on her heel, and walks away.

Her and Merlin's shoulders are perfectly aligned.

"Will it hold?" Roxy asks again.

Merlin raises an eyebrow. "The kind of cord we have?" he replies. He grins. "You bet it will."

"I'll take your word for that," Roxy replies.

 

 

She has tea with Merlin, afterwards. They go to his office. It smells of pine cones, and motor oil.

They lock the door. Just in case.

"I'd consider that a job well done, wouldn't you?" she says.

Merlin looks at her. "You's better believe it. I haven't laughed this much since - well - Paris."

"Paris," Roxy says. "What a fuck storm. A funny fuck storm, though."

"Indeed," Merlin says. "Cheers."

They clink mugs. Merlin is wearing a black sweater. His glasses are falling down his nose. He doesn't look very professional at all.

"Now that they're together, the office gossips are going to have to quiet down."

Merlin nods. "Hm," he says, slowly. "Unless they had a new couple to contend with."

Roxy unfolds her legs. She looks up. "Unless there was that."

Merlin doesn't drop her gaze.

"Hm," Merlin says, again.

Roxy puts down her mug. She takes a deep breath.


End file.
